


home is a fire

by vervains



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Mutants, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Background Character Death, Burns, Gen, M/M, Mentor/Protégé, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Mutant Powers, Nightmares, Not Really Character Death, Relationship Study, Slow Burn, Telepathy, X-Men Inspired, pyrokinesis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:33:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28892193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vervains/pseuds/vervains
Summary: taeyong finds kun where time doesn't reach, a figure coloured by burns and battle.
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Qian Kun
Comments: 12
Kudos: 39
Collections: Challenge #4 — Awaken The World





	home is a fire

**Author's Note:**

> hello and welcome to my thinly-veiled x men verse where i project what i wished cherik would be onto kunyong. i hope you enjoy!

Kun remembers the wide, dark eyes from his profile, but that’s where the similarities end. Lee Taeyong looks gaunt, shadows hugging his cheekbones, his clothes too loose on his body. Still, his eyes gleam with distrust and he doesn’t move in the slightest, coiled as if to lash out at any moment. Kun has seen that look mirrored in the faces of most kids back at the base, but Taeyong isn’t one, and he can’t use up more time making him comfortable.  
  
His coat drips rainwater onto the floor when he asks the question they’ve been avoiding.

“Do you know what you’re in here for?” 

“You said you weren’t a shrink," Taeyong answers, voice hoarse from disuse.

Kun hides a smile. “Not quite,” he says, “but enlighten me.”

Taeyong laughs, a harsh, unamused sound. “You sound like a shrink. I’m here because I set fire to a building. Killed a bunch of people. That what you wanted to hear?”

Kun has heard this a lot. He thinks back to the little _voluntary admittance_ scrawled at the top of Taeyong’s file, how the guards haven’t had trouble with him at all. Taeyong’s posture reeks of defensiveness, but Kun doesn’t detect any animosity. At least, not outwardly.

“I was told you checked yourself in. Guilty conscience?”

Taeyong doesn’t answer.

Kun moves closer, the size of the cell meaning that he’s only a few paces away from Taeyong. He leans down, the edges of his coat grazing the floor.

“Did you lock yourself up in here because of what you did, or because of _how_ you did it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Taeyong mutters.

Kun smiles. He heard about the building that Taeyong brought down, how there was no evidence of foul play or fire hazards. He feels Taeyong’s eyes follow him as he moves to the door, rapping twice on it for the guard. “Let me show you something.”

The guard walks in, his features schooled into mild annoyance that becomes amplified when Kun lets down his mental blocks. As always, people’s thoughts are loud, the guard’s a stream of mundanity and Taeyong’s of fear and suspicion. He tunes out the noise, focusing on the thread that he needs.

“Switch clothes with Taeyong,” he orders the guard.

“What?” Taeyong sputters, but the guard obediently starts to peel off his jacket. “How are you doing that?”

“Same way you set fire to that building. Though with a little bit of finesse.”

Taeyong’s lips part. “I don’t….Why didn’t you just do that to me, then?”

“Choice is important when it comes to us,” Kun states, sobering up. “You’re going to have to make yours now.”

Taeyong gapes at him. “So what, you can control minds?”

“Telepath,” Kun corrects, and glances at the guard, who’s down to his vest and underwear. “You can stop there,” he says. “Look, you can either stay here and be afraid of yourself, or you can come with me, and learn how to control your powers.”

A few seconds pass where Kun is almost convinced that Taeyong will stay back. Then, he gets to his feet, shedding his grey tunic and bottoms in favour of the uniform. When he puts on the cap, all traces of him being an inmate vanish. In a quick motion, he scurries past the guard, letting out a small shudder at his vacant expression. 

“I’m coming with you,” he states, following Kun past the open door, sucking in a deep breath.

Kun’s smile is hard, but genuine. “Good choice.” 

He shuts the door behind the guard. Someone’s bound to find him later. 

Avoidance only takes Taeyong so far. The nightmares come and go, warped reminders of how badly he had lost control. He distracts himself with training during the day, tiring himself out in hopes of a dreamless sleep, but to no avail. He starts to look like he did back in the institution, losing a bit of the weight he gained, the bags under his eyes returning.

His constant exhaustion makes training sessions with Kun more awkward than they should be. 

"You're not concentrating enough," Kun chides. Taeyong swears under his breath when he realizes he only managed to light one of the candles that sit around him in a circle. "Think of it as releasing a switch, or lighting a match. Whichever is easier for you."

Not easy when thinking about fire reminds him of the stench of burning flesh. At this point, Taeyong doubts visualizing even a flamethrower will help.

"You don't know till you try," Kun responds, and it takes Taeyong a moment to realize what he's talking about. It’s the first time Kun has acknowledged reading his thoughts, and it's a little unnerving.

"I thought you said don't read people's minds without them knowing."

Kun's smile is sheepish. "Your thoughts are loud, and I can't block them all the time."

“So even you slip up,” Taeyong murmurs. It’s far from the image he built in his head. He expects Kun has to put up a front when recruiting people, but he’s still unused to this side of him.

"Of course I do,” Kun responds easily. “Also, maybe it’ll help if you try thinking of the good side of your powers instead of the bad.” 

Taeyong frowns. At first, it's difficult to come up with anything positive, but then he thinks of silly things like being able to light a hearth or a cigarette, of campfires and marshmallows. He shuts his eyes, and envisions the flames dancing in his open palm, sprouting from the unlit candles.

They light up, casting shadows along the walls, twirling over Kun's body in mad patterns.

Taeyong sucks in a breath, and imagines the blowing the candles out, one by one. The flames dissipate with a slight hiss. Kun claps a hand on his shoulder in a gesture that shouldn't be so reassuring. 

“Good job,” he states, and Taeyong barely hears it. He hasn’t been able to use his power since the incident and being in full control of it, even if it’s just seeing sparks over his fingers, is dizzying. 

"We'll stop there for now," he hears Kun say.

He leaves, yet Taeyong stays behind, practicing lighting and extinguishing the fire at will. 

He doesn’t go to bed.

Days of exhausting himself with practice and losing sleep start to bleed together. Taeyong nods off during breakfast at their base, under the eye of a bunch of kids who are _like them_ , according to Kun and Doyoung, who run the place. On a regular day, Taeyong would be more curious about how it all started, but now, he just wants some rest.

He gives up when Doyoung calls him out on it. He excuses him from the day's activities with a sharp look, and Taeyong’s eyes close before he even hits the bed in his new room. He dreams, but for once, it isn't of fire. He dreams of water, an endless expanse of blue-grey stretching towards the horizon. A white beach, a figure he can't see.

Over it all, a soft voice singing words that wash away like footprints under the tide of sleep.

Showing Taeyong his hometown was unintentional, but Kun’s always been overly sensitive to new people. He knows he shouldn't play favourites, that he should be strong enough for the people he’s trying to help, but he keeps forgetting himself around Taeyong. His power is tempting; most have tried to take advantage of it, but Taeyong never asks, and it’s part of why Kun relinquishes a bit of the control he usually keeps over it.

Kun’s room doesn’t have to be close to Taeyong’s for him to know what’s been plaguing him in his sleep. It happens between debriefing Doyoung at the end of the day and settling in to get some rest. It’s easy enough to expand his focus, to switch from merely knowing what Taeyong is thinking to influencing it, to ease some of the guilt he feels.

He doesn’t mean to show him Pearl Bay. Kun just picks the first pleasant memory in his head — his favourite spot at the beach in Xiamen, the off-white shells he used to hunt for as a kid, the roaring of the waves drowning out the sound of the city behind him. But Kun’s resolve has been crumbling in Taeyong’s wake, the unquestioning faith he places in him, and the ease with which he draws out parts of Kun he thought he’d buried long ago.

So he adds something to the memory, twists it just short of its original form. 

He adds himself, in bits and pieces, a part of him whose existence will remain between them. 

Taeyong’s clock runs out on a rainy Tuesday. Kun meets him in his room, and Taeyong knows it’s time to test out what he’s been learning. To prove that neither of them made a mistake the day they met, so similar to this one. Kun gives him a rundown of the plan; tag along with Doyoung to meet potential recruits. It sounds easy enough, but his hands still shake when he when he conjures up his flames. It's surprising to see them stable.

“You’re up for this, right?” Kun asks, the crease between his eyebrows making him look older than he is. Not for the first time, Taeyong wonders why he doesn’t just read his mind. 

"I’ve got it,” Taeyong responds, letting the flames die down. The fear of using his power has subsided with his training, but it's still daunting to use it out in the field. 

“If anything goes wrong—,” Kun starts.

"Let Doyoung handle it, I know,” Taeyong finishes, smile rueful. “Does everyone get this treatment?”

Kun blinks, and then gives him a wan smile. “Some get worse.” He pulls to his feet. “Doyoung must be waiting for you.”

Taeyong pulls on his gloves, the ones that he shouldn’t burn through. The quiet comes back now, the awkwardness that somehow died past their initial meetings. It must feel like a relief to Kun, to someone who hears so much, but Taeyong wants to fill the silence.

“Wish me luck,” he murmurs, trying for a smile.

Kun doesn’t. “Remember, choice and control,” he says instead.

Taeyong trades a scoff for a nod. He knows too much about both of those things.

Kun never doubted it, but Taeyong’s first mission is a success. And the ones after that. Taeyong attributes it to having a knack for people, but his mental blocks are weak, and sometimes Kun hears things without meaning to. It's flattering, but Kun has never considered himself a role model, despite the people claiming he is. It’s his power that gives him the advantage, and Kun has always felt like he’s cheating. 

Not that he voices it to anyone. The lonely part about being able to read people’s minds is that no one can touch his.

Taeyong lets out a soft hiss, and Kun looks down to see that he’s pressed on a tender spot on his hand, the skin there red and burned. “Sorry,” he murmurs, continuing to spread the lotion over his palm. Taeyong’s fingers are unburdened of anything, considering he’d just burn right through them if he lost control. Tended not to happen often, but Kun worries still.

"Penny for your thoughts?” Taeyong asks when he finishes with the lotion, hunting for a bandage. Kun snorts at the inside joke, turning over Taeyong’s hand to inspect his work. Maybe it’s the sound of the steadily falling rain that douses him in a sense of familiarity, or that it’s just so easy to get comfortable around Taeyong, but he takes a chance.

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

"What?”

“That I can always tell what you’re thinking, but never the other way around?”

Taeyong eyes are dark when he looks at Kun. Their depths still betray his every emotion, but the similarities to the gaunt boy he’d met months ago have faded. He looks healthy, the cold adding a touch of red to his full cheeks. “No,” he says, with too much conviction.

“Why not?”

“I trust you,” Taeyong admits. 

Kun shuts his eyes, letting go of Taeyong’s bandaged hand. He expects there to be some sort of catch, but it never comes. Since that day Taeyong followed him out of his cell, there hasn’t been any second-guessing. It’s a little terrifying.

“If there’s ever something to be said, you’d tell me,” Taeyong continues.

Kun’s eyes flutter open, and he wishes, not for the first time, that their roles were reversed.

“Right,” he says.

Sometimes it frightens Taeyong what his kind can do. The news constantly blasts footage of _mutant activity_ as the public has dubbed it, which is more often frightened kids being cornered into losing control of their powers than it is anyone looking to cause any real damage. Until reports start to crop up of attacks on government offices, all fingers pointing to a clip of a mutant changing his skin while he flees from the cops.

Taeyong doesn’t miss how Kun has a faraway look in his eye whenever he sees him, with his small, coiled stature and determined mouth. 

“You know him.” It’s more of a statement than a question.

Kun's voice is heavy with something. “I used to.”

“And?”

Kun sighs. He’s been distant lately. Taeyong pretends it doesn’t sting.

“There are those of us who think we’re better than humans, that we should control them. He’s one of them.”

“And what do you think?” It’s the closest Taeyong’s come to questioning his place here.

Kun gestures around the room they’re in, one of many that the younger kids have their classes in. “I think we should coexist. But I’m also not naive enough to let ourselves be caught unprepared.”

"And that’s why you’re doing all this.”

“It is. Do you regret becoming a part of it? Because like I told you before, you always have—,”

“A choice, I know,” Taeyong finishes for him, smiling wryly. “And no, I don’t.”

Kun’s slow, surprised smile makes Taeyong thinks it’s way past the time to have regrets.

Kun has known two things from the start. One, his growing attachment to Taeyong is bound to slap him in the face. Two, knowing something is going to happen doesn't necessarily make it easier to deal with. Kun has a purpose, and he has long known it's inevitable — he refuses to let his years of preparation end in nothing. But Taeyong complicates everything, tempting Kun to selfishness with a grace he doesn't understand he possesses.

The Registration Act is when it begins. An oppressive movement by the government to keep tabs on mutants, make sure they know their place. It sends an angry shiver down even Kun's spine, so he doesn't need to be a mind reader to know that Ten will make his move soon.

He can't say he blames him, but they need to be ready.

And Kun worries. He worries that the home he fought so hard to build will collapse, that the culmination of all his efforts will end in one colossal fight where the only victors to rise will be ashes and dust. 

Mostly, Kun worries that his heart isn't in it.

"You're thinking too much," Taeyong chides. They're out in the garden, watching Doyoung spar with one of the kids, ice against speed. 

"There's a lot to think about," Kun counters. Like how he might never get a chance to be honest with Taeyong, to see if the curves of his lips are as soft as they look.

"Maybe you should focus on the good," Taeyong suggests, mirroring what he had told him during training. It should sound mocking, but it doesn't.

"Like?" He almost doesn't want to hear it.

Taeyong smiles, and it's warmth in a cold winter. "We're here. We've gotten this far. It's just a matter of moving forward."

"That's an optimistic way to look at it."

Taeyong shrugs. "I made a choice when I walked out of that room with you. I'd rather face what's coming than turn my back on it and pretend it doesn't affect me."

Kun dips his head back, unable to hide his smile. "Well said. We'll make a leader out of you yet."

He says it half-jokingly, but Taeyong's breath becomes sharp. He grabs Kun's hand in a move that's too disorienting to glean the meaning of. His voice is heated, a reminder that even a gentle flame can burn.

"I won't need to be one as long as you're here."

Kun loves the eager shine in his eyes too much to argue. "You're right," he says.

Taeyong’s answering smile is fierce, and he doesn't let go of his hand.

Taeyong finds Kun where time doesn't reach, a figure coloured by burns and battle. His hair is singed, and the ends of his clothes are ripped, but his eyes are the same when he gets to his knees beside him. His fingers ghost over Kun's face, tentative, shaking, but his voice is steady.

"Kun?" he asks, and he manages an answering hum because he can never disappoint Taeyong. "That beach. Where you were singing at in my dreams. Where is it?"

Kun wants to ask why Taeyong looks so distressed, but the words don't come out the way he wants them to. The answer he has feels wrong but Kun gathers enough strength for it to hang in the air, unheard by all except the two of them. The way it should be.

_Home. China._

"Right," Taeyong whispers, and the way his fingers run through Kun's hair is distracting. "Let's go there, just you and me."

Kun can’t tell why he thinks this is a false promise, but the thought is nice. He misses Pearl Bay, and he has many songs he'd like to sing for Taeyong. He just hopes he has the time to listen.

“Don’t worry,” Taeyong’s voice cracks, “it’s all over now. We have all the time in the world."

**Author's Note:**

> don't worry he's not actually dead <3 i just thought it would be a good place to end the story. as my first alw entry, this was such a challenge to write with the word count (and me picking a concept that would be better off as a longfic) but i ended up pretty fond of this little universe...might turn it into a series sometime...
> 
> but yeah hope you liked it! please do leave kudos/comments if you enjoyed! get in touch with me below:
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/dawnblushes)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/vervains)


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